Friday, November 9, 2012

Getting to New York this year for the print fair was no easy task. As you can imagine, Super Storm Sandy created mass confusion and a logistics nightmare. After many hours spent analyzing our chances of getting there we finally rearranged our cancelled flight and boarded a plane to arrive in New York Wednesday afternoon, only a day and a half later than planned. We caught a cab straight to the Uptown Armory, suitcases in tow, anxious to see if our crates full of artwork had been delivered. Miraculously they had, and we were able to begin intsalling our booth immediately. Thanks to the tireless work of Michele Senecal (IFPDA), Sanford Smith Associates, and the construction crews (who began building the booths midnight Tuesday and worked 18 hours straight) the walls for the fair were ready. Not everyone was so lucky. Some art never arrived.

A few people's shipments did not arrive in time.

Crates at the Armory

Uptown was in a kind of bubble, everything seemed almost OK, except that Central Park was closed and you couldn't get anywhere by subway. But what really stood out was the shock on everybody's face, the dazed look that us West Coasters recognize from the days following the Loma Prieta earthquake. As the magnitude of destruction unfolded, we heard stories from our collegues about the damage to homes, galleries, artwork, and worst of all, the loss of human life. The Upper West Side had power and felt surreal in its near normalcy and we were lucky to be staying there. Like everyone in New York who could, we offered one of our rooms to someone who was unable to commute to the fair from Brooklyn.

﻿

Renee Bott, Lothar Osterburg (who rode his bike to the fair from Brooklyn) and Judy Pfaff

The Uptown Armory (you'd never know there was a storm here).

The show opened a day late, the attendance was at half capacity (amazing considering the circumstances). Those who did make it were the diehards, supportive, and elated to be there at all. The fair looked especially good with the glow of survival. We exhibited our latest pieces by Thornton Dial, Isca Greenfield-Sanders, Gary Simmons, and Martin Puryear. For us the fair was extra special because it was a symbol of the city's endurance and ability to overcome adversity.

A few highlights from the fair:

Durham Press

Pace Prints and Paragon Press

Barbara Krakow Gallery and Andrew Hoyem of Arion Press

We send our best wishes to everyone recovering from the storm and are thankful for the bravery and camaraderie of the people on the East Coast.

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

Mari Iki and Martin Maguss are San
Francisco collectors. They are avid collectors and have amassed an impressive
collection with a modest budget.Over
the years, they have purchased works by artists such as Andy Warhol, Robert
Rauchenberg, Keith Haring, Francis Bacon, Nan Goldin, Gary Simmons, Vik
Muniz—the list goes on. They have also been great supporters of the many local art
galleries.Pam and I met them in the
late 1990s at the first Blackman art fair at Fort Mason where they purchased a
small print from us. At a recent dinner
for the artist Gary Simmons, we found out that Martin began collecting art in high school. I wanted to see their collection,
and I asked if I could interview them.

Q:
Martin, when
did your passion for collecting art begin?

Martin:My dad instilled the values—you save up, then you
can buy what you want. Growing up in Canada, I was excited about American
culture. In high school, Lichtenstein and Warhol were on my radar. I had a part-time
job and saved enough to buy my first piece.

Q:
The
Lichtenstein was the first piece you purchased?

Martin:Yes. I showed it to my dad, and said, “I bought
this artwork by an American artist who I absolutely admire, Roy Lichtenstein.” My
dad asked me how much I paid for it, and when I told him, he was livid. I said,
“Wait a minute. You told me to save, and if I saved enough money, I could buy
whatever I wanted. So this is a win for everybody. Now I want to go to New York
and meet Andy.” My dad said, “Andy who?” I told him, "I want to meet Andy Warhol."

Roy Lichtenstein, Hand and Foot, 1964 Color Silk Screen Print

Q:
How did you
know about these artists?

Martin:I was attracted to pop culture. While in high
school, I’d also spend my free time in the National Gallery of Canada looking
at Claes Oldenburg’s Bedroom Suite
and the work of James Rosenquist. Expo 67 was also a big influence, because the
American pavilion exhibited all the Pop artists. I travelled to Montreal to see
it!

In university, I majored in graphic design and photography. I
spent a great deal of time with close friends, having wonderful dialogues about
the current artists—Julian Schnabel, Francesco Clemente, and others in the
early 1980s.

Q:
Did you get to
meet Andy Warhol?

Dining Room

Martin:Yes. I got on a Greyhound bus and went to New York.
It was a different time, you could just do it. I’d met him a couple of times in
Toronto as well. Meeting him really did change my perspective on art.

Q:
So when you and Mari met, your relationship revolved around art?

Martin:We were talking, obviously, a lot about art. She
took me to the Berkeley Art Museum to see this painting that she just loved.

Mari:I said, “Oh, you have to see this museum, because
it’s just great.” I would go there all the time. I showed him my favorite
piece—a painting by Francis Bacon.

Q:
Mari, was there
a conscious moment when you decided to start collecting?

Mari:For as far back as I can remember, whenever I
travelled with my family, I went to museums. I stood in line to attend the
Avedon retrospective that David Ross curated at the Berkeley Art Museum. I had
all these posters of amazing shows that I’d been to. Later, after Martin and I
met, we went to the Fraenkel Gallery.

Martin:That was October 1984.

Mari:Martin asked Jeffrey Fraenkel to show us the
Mapplethorpe still lifes. They were gorgeous black and white images of orchids.
I forget how much they were—$500, $700—but I just said, “Wow...that’s so much
for a black and white multiple.” Martin told me, “You spend money on posters,
you should think of getting the real thing. Like these photographs, they’re
beautiful.” We never got one!

Before
I met Martin, I used to go into the Stephen Wirtz Gallery, always looking at
Raymond Saunders’s work. Later, I went in with Martin and looked at a Raymond
Saunders print maybe ten times. Finally, with guidance from Stephen Wirtz, the
Saunders print was the first piece that I purchased.

Mari:That was my first contemporary art
“acquisition,” but we do tend to agree.

Martin:The amazing thing about our relationship is if
Mari and I see an exhibition, we will usually independently pick out the exact
same piece. We have to work within a budget—we don’t have a lot of “disposable
income”—we both have regular jobs.

Mari:Frankly, when we’re interviewed about collecting,
it’s to show that anybody can collect.

Q:
There must have
been a point at which you realized...

Mari:We saw a segment on 60 Minutes in 1995.

Q:
It’s not about
the Vogels is it?

Mari:Yes—Herb and Dorothy!

Martin: We had an epiphany. They were such an influence to
us! They didn’t have a fancy New York City lifestyle, and they had a comparable
budget to work with. We thought, “Here are people who think in a similar way.”

Mari:They have some of the same priorities! It’s okay
to not want to get a new sofa or something, but to purchase art. Most of our
decisions revolve around looking at or purchasing art. Our friends thought we were
crazy.
﻿

Q:
I want to focus
for a moment on the idea of curating a collection. Do you have an overarching
idea for your collection, or is it based on a gut reaction?

Mari:It is an informed gut reaction. I once asked a
friend why a museum director had spent extra time with us. He said, “Because I
explained to him that you have a collection.” I said, “But we don’t have a
collection. We just collect.”

Q:
Is that how you
still think of it today? Or now that you have all this work, do you feel a
sense of responsibility?

Mari:We do feel a certain responsibility. What happens
to it when we’re not here? We haven’t really come up with...

Q:
The perfect
plan?

Martin:Yes. The one thing we’re consistent about…for any
work in our collection, we will always loan for educational purposes. It’s for
the betterment of the artist’s career; it’s not about us, it’s for them.

Q:
What about your
relationship to the artists who make the work? Is it important to meet the
artist? Or does that change the relationship?

Mari:When we can meet them, it’s wonderful. For
example, Sean McFarland, who shows at Eli Ridgway Gallery, is an emerging
photographer, and we’ve learned a lot about his work by getting to know him.

Martin:I’ve always said to Mari, if there’s an
opportunity to meet an artist, we should. I remember when Mari met Diebenkorn
and Thiebaud; I met Warhol, Haring, and others. If you can hear them talking
about their work, that’s the best!

Martin:You’ve worked with Martin Puryear, Caio Fonseca, Radcliffe
Bailey, Gary Simmons, and other artists that we admire. Artists that are
continuing the line of creativity. Whether they work with paint, wood or other
media—when they come into your studio and address another medium, the
creativity is all the same! For us, there’s little distinction between
painting, drawing, and works on paper.

Q:
What is your
advice to the novice collector?

Mari:Look everywhere, read a lot, and then remember
to look at the new and emerging artists and galleries.

Martin:Mari and I spend an inordinate amount of time not
only looking at work, but also talking about work. We’re always looking, even
when we know we won’t be purchasing. We never buy for investment.

There
are always opportunities for young collectors. Someone might not have the
budget for a Kerry James Marshall painting, but they could consider one of his
amazing prints.

Thursday, August 2, 2012

The work of Isca Greenfield-Sanders has the ability to convert even the most jaded person into a hopeless romantic. Her paintings and etchings often seduce the viewer into a wistful state--suddenly yearning for days past or simply imagined.

What better season to celebrate her six new etchings than summer? Isca's ocean waders and mountain bathers inspired all of us at Paulson Bott Press to share our own youthful images of summers spent by waters.

﻿

The Mertens-Bott clan, Martha's Vineyard, 2007

Z, Feather River, 1994

Sam, Stinson Beach, 2007

As the daughter of an English teacher, I am deeply programmed to live for summer days. The three remaining seasons have always seemed but preludes to the main event. Growing up, my sisters and I spent long days in the Sierra, soaking up the fresh air and sunshine and jumping off rocks into lakes.

The Fontaine sisters, Mirror Lake, 1988

It is always the artist that inspires us to be, once again, at the water's edge, where we are living life to its fullest. The joy of my summers at the lake is best expressed in one of my mother's poems:

Thursday, July 5, 2012

Stepping off the plane, Renee and I were engulfed by an
ocean of hot air. Ninety-five degrees and 103% humidity (as our waiter later
remarked). We caught a cab straight to the Art Institute of Chicago and met up
with Mark Pascale. Mark is curating a show of Martin Puryear’s works on paper
and invited us to discuss the prints we’ve made with Martin over the last 11
years. Graciously, Mark gave us a welcoming tour of the newish Renzo Piano
addition, including the spacious gallery Martin’s exhibition will occupy. The
light in the new section is refreshing, with windows overlooking native prairie
gardens.

Pam Paulson in the Print Room at the AIC

Mark further indulged us by taking us into the cavernous
storage rooms of the works on paper collection, where row upon row of large
flat files housed works slumbering in a climate-controlled stupor. Mark opened
drawers and unshelved framed works, rousing Lee Bontecou etchings printed by Tatyana
Grosman, gigantic Russian war posters, a dog collage by Joan Brown, and a
charcoal study by Kerry James Marshall that I will never forget. Next up was
the conservation department, where we talked glue theory with the conservators
and enjoyed inspecting all their work areas and tools.

Finally, we found repose in the study room in the company of
“Profile” by Martin Puryear and kicked back for an overview of the material
that has been gathered to date for the show. Last fall, we shipped 99 working proofs
and miscellaneous ephemera from our projects with Martin to the Art Institute
to document the process of making the prints. It is really amazing to see this
idea for the exhibition take shape.

Renee and Pam infront of the Kapoor

Mark visited Martin a few months ago with Ruth Fine (curator
of special projects in modern art, National Gallery of Art) and Harriet Stratis
(head of paper conservation at the Art Institute) to take a look at his personal
archive of works on paper. Martin studied printmaking in Sweden and made highly
successful prints early in his career. Renee and I had glimpsed these early
works the first time we visited Martin’s studio. It was great fun to be
virtually reintroduced.

Exiting the museum, we swam over to Millennium Park, strolling
beside smartly designed fountains full of hot Chicagoans cooling themselves in
the mist. We wound our way over to the
fun house mirror, “Cloud Gate” (Anish Kapoor’s monumental bean) and around to
Gehry’s Jay Pritzker Pavilion. All wows!

The next day we looked at all the working proofs and the
correlating edition prints, analyzing how we got from A to B. Not always easy
to recreate, but thanks to usefully redundant documentation, we were satisfied
we had it right. Mostly!

Later, after a quick walk to the lake, we met up with our
old friend Stephanie Sherman for drinks and dinner at Gage, across from the
museum. Stephanie (an amazing art professional) introduced us to the very
handsome Billy Lawless, who owns Gage as well as Henri, its sister restaurant
next door. We relaxed with a great cheese plate, fine martinis, a venison
burger, and the fabulous staff. Then it was on to Henri for a memorable dessert
at the bar.

Andy Cutting & Brice McCoy at Henri

Thankfully, the next morning, the temperature had backed
down, and rainclouds mitigated the blazing sun. Skirting downpours, we paid a
visit to Kerry James Marshall’s studio. Kerry is an amazingly productive
individual. He has multiple projects in the works and then some. We were
delighted to see several of his models, who closely resemble the one he worked
with while in our studio.

Barbi Dolls at KJM's studio

Of great interest to me are the costumes Kerry and his
assistant have designed and sewn for his dolls/models to wear when he draws
them. They intentionally avoid recalling a discernible time period yet remain oddly
familiar. The use of oversized elements like buttons and textures from the
ribbing of socks upends the expected.

We boarded the plane back to the Bay Area exhausted and
inspired. However, we were certainly not as exhausted as this guy in Renee’s
row.

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

In 1997 Paulson Bott Press was a year old. We had several projects underway and were enjoying the exhilaration of starting a new business and achieving some success. In November of that year, Pam and I left our first studio in Emeryville for our second trip to New York to visit some artists. Gary Simmons was the first person on our list; we had arranged to meet in his studio on a cold November morning.

Gary’s studio was located on one of the many floors of a vast studio building in Chelsea. At that time he had an exhibition up at Metro Pictures. He said the next few years were extremely busy for him, but he would consider our invitation to come to the east bay and make prints.

In the years that followed, I was fortunate to see several of Gary’s exhibitions and installations. I always appreciate it when I experience a transcendent art moment. By this, I mean a moment when I connect to the work in a way that makes me want to remember what I saw, to remember how I felt when I stood in front of that piece. Gary’s installation at the Contemporary Museum of Art in San Diego in 1997 was a moment like that.

Directly across from the main entrance to the museum, I could see his work on the far gallery wall. I didn’t hesitate; the force of his work pulled me in. I paused before his installation Gazebo. It was a breathtaking, larger than life drawing of a gazebo on a dark charcoal wall with Gary’s signature “erasure” of the chalk drawn structure. It was like a wild wind had encircled the porch. Or perhaps it was a fading memory. Rife with historical references the work conjured southern mansions and formal tea along with echoes of the long civil rights battles still being waged today.

Gary Simmons: Gazebo, 1997

Erasure: Video of Gary Simmons at Paulson Bott Press by Bill Freais

Years later, in the fall of 2010, I picked up Gary from the Anthony Meiers Gallery in San Francisco. He and his assistant folded themselves into my Mini Cooper and we headed over to our studio in Berkeley for lunch and a tour of the press. He was serious about our invitation; it just took him a while to get around to accepting it.

Starlite Theatre 2012

Gary was immediately at ease in the studio, experimenting with everything available to try out on a copper plate. With his presence the studio instantly had a different energy, the printers curious and watchful, eager to engage with this thoughtful and talkative artist. It is a great feeling to be involved in the moment of an artist’s creation. Discoveries are being made, mistakes are happening. The trial and error of working with a new medium gives way to something new and magical.

In November of 2010 Pam and I once again climbed the stairs to his New York studio. We were in town to see the Armory Fair. By that Friday afternoon, we had already seen a whole lot of art and our feet were tired. The studio was pristine. The walls were carefully arranged with his latest work, completed and ready to ship to Simon Lee in London for his opening there. After the pandemonium of the art fair, Gary’s quiet studio was uplifting, like walking in to a cool cathedral on a hot summer day in Rome. Pam and I sat down and admired his ghost ships and deck chairs. This was, hands down, the most exciting art we had seen in New York that week.

Gary worked at Paulson Bott Press for a week in the fall of 2011 and completed three prints. He came back for a few more days in January 2012 and completed the project, making three more images. The first three prints reference Kubrick’s film The Shining. Two of the prints taunt us with the repeated type written line “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.” The third, a large six panel piece depicts two ominously swinging turn of the century chandeliers from a scene of the hotel’s interior. Another related image is a spinning classical chandelier from a still of Hitchcock’s masterpiece Marnie . Simmons has a fascination with horror movies and related material including theater marquees, which are the subjects for two more of his prints. Images of the Bonham and Starlite marquees shimmer as if blinking out for the final time as they disappear from the American landscape.

Last month we returned to Gary’s studio to sign prints. We were delighted that the discussion touched on ideas for future projects. Gary explained that the process had led him to think about his mark making differently. That he had enjoyed the experience of spending more time in the space of making his drawings. Some things just take time.

Thursday, March 1, 2012

When two people start a business they don’t often think about the historic perspective. That would seem a little grand. So it’s counter intuitive that two women as modest as Pam Paulson and Renee Bott would think about their work in this perspective from the outset. However, they both knew that the work they would produce at their press, the collaboration between master printers and renowned artists would be of interest to curators, collectors, historians, and artists at some point in the future.

In this interview we asked founders Pam and Renee and Gallery Director Rhea Fontaine-Charlot’s perspective on the press at fifteen.

-Kenneth Caldwell

Pam, Rhea and Renee in the gallery, 2006

Q:

Now that you have been in existence for fifteen years, there must be a substantial archive.

Renee Bott:

That’s true. We consider every print that we rip up or keep to be a record of what we're doing. Along with that, we document the projects. We have a time capsule that plots our history. We started that from the very first day. We understood that if we created something, we wanted it to have a legacy as we move forward.

Paulson Bott Press showroom

Q:

How does the idea of the archive, with all of its evidence and documentation, influence your process?

Pam Paulson:

Perhaps it helps us to be even more careful about whom we choose to work with. When there is catalog raisonné of the work we want to be able to look back and see a strong vision.

Q:

How have the projects changed over the last few years? How has your thinking changed?

Bott:

When we consider whom to invite now, we start by asking ourselves the question, where does this artist fit into our overall program as it moves forward?

Rhea Fontaine-Charlot:

We are interested in a broad platform with a mix of artists. We don’t want to be predictable, and we are very focused on artists who add to the conversation in the realm of the work that they are doing, not just what we are doing.

Pam and Renee with Ross Bleckner

Bott:

It's very difficult to invite someone to come and spend two weeks with us and then work hard, long hours every day if it’s someone whose work you're not totally excited about.

Q:

Let’s talk more about the process in the studio. When an artist comes here, one of you is assigned to them?

Paulson:

Renee and I take turns being in charge of a project.

Bott:

There is always a master printer in charge to streamline decision-making and communication. When you are building a print, it is like building a house. You don't want a carpenter doing plumbing before it's ready.

Paulson:

It's like one chef in the kitchen and a bunch of sous chefs. Things get delegated throughout the project. I may do the color; Renee's making the decisions about the plate-making. You always find the strongest person or the person that’s right for the job.

Bott:

For example, a younger printer might end up working in the acid room, allowing the master printer to be with the artist. Critical communication happens right after you've pulled a print. Decisions are made: What are we going to do next? How are we going to do it? Especially with an artist who has never made prints before, it's a teaching process. So you want to introduce concepts and ideas in a way that they can see how it's going to help them get to where they want to go.

Fontaine-Charlot:

It's a really tough thing, because we're trying to keep the artist busy and engaged, but there's a lot of technical work to be done. So the printers are really juggling. It demands a lot of energy.

Q:

I want to know more about the collaboration with the artist.

Paulson:

Often we visit their studio and discuss what ideas they have.

Bott:

When they come here, we ask them what size print they'd like to make and narrow it down to a few images or ideas. Then we cut a piece of copper and stick it in front of them and say, go at it, one-way, or the other.

Paulson:

Most artists have done some thinking before they come here. It's not like they walk in with a completely blank slate, because that's not usually comfortable for them.

Radcliffe Bailey

Q:

But that idea could utterly change?

Paulson:

Completely.

Bott:

And sometimes their ideas are so fixed, it takes a few days to work through to something that works with the etching process.

Paulson:

There is a moment when they're actually looking at the proof you pulled, rather than the idea that's in their head. And they start responding, and that’s when the process really starts moving.

Bott:

When Pam and I go to their studio and see what's up on their wall and start talking to them about it, that's when a lot of things start to click. It's pretty rare that people come in and we have no idea what they're going to do. And yet, in this last project with Tauba Auerbach, she had a bunch of ideas that we had not discussed. Every day it was a different surprise.

Paulson:

We went through so many different ideas, and she'd test one for a day or two or occasionally three to see if we could get the results that were satisfying to her.

Q:

Other surprises?

Bott:

Then there was also Radcliffe Bailey. We showed him sugarlift, and he took off his shoes. He stuck his foot in the sugarlift and walked across the print. We had never seen someone do that before. We were washing his feet trying to get the ink off—just like Jesus.

Paulson:

Chris Johanson came in and said, “I want to make the ugliest print I can make.” He did all these hard zigzaggy marks on five or six plates. Then when we put them all together, it was kind of a beautiful thing.

Chris Johanson

Q:

What about the future?

Fontaine-Charlot:

It is about staying true to our instincts.

Bott:

We've learned to rely on good relationships.

Paulson:

And that means making time to communicate with people, all kinds of people.

Bott:

There are two sides, the commerce and the artists. I feel very strongly about keeping the artists in your heart. We would not be here without them. You have to try and be humble